


Wait For Me

by jadedmother



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Inspired by Hadestown, M/M, Mutual Pining, no beta we die like men, the woods in winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 14:10:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18801913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadedmother/pseuds/jadedmother
Summary: A story about Snufkin's winter travels, inspired loosely by the soundtrack of the new musical Hadestown.Snufkin makes an excellent Orpheus.





	1. Chapter 1

Just as quickly as it came, fall drained from the boughs of the trees. The sky paled and the leaves began to disappear from their branches, leaving only the telltale grey of winter's arrival. Snufkin was already preparing to depart from Moomin Valley. He made his goodbyes to everyone in the valley short and sweet, making sure to bid each resident a simple farewell--saving for last, of course, his Moomintroll.

“Are you sure you have to leave?” Moomin asked him, standing there on the bridge with him, just like all the winters before.

“I've already stayed too long, Moomin,” Snufkin responded, in his usual way. But this time, he meant it. “Have you noticed how the river has still yet to freeze over, and the leaves are still coming down? Signs of a bad winter to come, likely one of the worst yet.” Indeed. He knew that even the south parts would be twinged with cold, once he made his way down. “But you'll be fast asleep the whole time.”

“If it's going to be so bad, why can't you just stay with us? I'm sure Mamma wouldn't mind letting you stay in my room for the winter,” Moomin said.

“But she's already asleep with the rest of your family, isn't she?”

“Well, even if she weren't, she wouldn't mind. She lets people stay over all the time.”

Snufkin let out a half-chuckle. “It's hard to say why I can't stay, only that it's something I feel that I must do. You do understand, I hope? That it's not for not missing you, but just that I need this time to myself?”

“I guess so.”

Snufkin took Moomin's soft paws into his own. “I'll be back when you wake up, you won't even miss me.” Moomin pouted. “Okay, maybe you'll miss me, but it'll be like I didn't leave.”

“Okay...”

“Well, wait...” Snufkin turned tail, pawing at the pack on his back and fumbling around inside. “Why don't you take this while I'm gone?”

Moomin took it gingerly. “You won't need your harmonica?” 

“I'm sure you'll take good care of it.”

“Oh, absolutely! I'll cherish it with my life! Or, well, you know--” Moomin straightened, holding the harmonica tighter. “I'll make sure nothing happens to it.”

“Good. And you'll take care of yourself too while I'm gone?”

“Of course.”

Without thinking Snufkin put his palm to Moomin’s cheek. “Good.”

And without waiting a second longer Snufkin turned, waved, and set to walking towards the woods, leaving Moomin standing on the bridge, touching the ghost of a hand on his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not good at writing long chapters. the next one is similarly brief; it'll be up soon. see you then.


	2. Chapter 2

Moomin laid awake with the sheets drawn up to his chin, listening to the nothingness of the calm brought by the snow falling outside his window. There was no roar of wind, nor rush of tree, not even the sound of snowflake meeting snowflake, and the soft snores of everyone else in the house didn't reach him through the walls of his room. It was just him, lying motionless in the lonely, stifling stillness. 

His cheek still radiated a faint warmth. He absentmindedly put his paw up to feel it again, and let his thoughts wander. Where must Snufkin be, now? He was long since on his way off, having picked up and left a few hours ago. Maybe by now he’d cleared the woods, and crossed into someplace warm. Moomin's ear twitched just a bit. Yes, someplace warm, like the blanket of gentle sunshine that comes with the springtime, settling on the blooming flowers and draping the shoulders like a cloak. The warmth that you’d feel soaking up the sun while you’re sitting cross-legged next to your best friend, listening to him talk about near-nothings, like what the calls of the birds mean, or how to make a wreath of dandelions that won’t fall apart when you put it on. The warmth that settles in the stomach and flushes the cheeks. Moomin nestled into his covers, as if to bring home just a little bit of that warmth. 

Maybe Snufkin was thinking of Moomin right now, as he plodded along his southward path. Maybe he’d think to bring home something from his travels, and say that it reminded him of Moomin, a shell or a particularly heart-shaped leaf or the pressed petals of some flower. And he’d say that the whole trip would've been so much nicer if Moomin had been there to see the things he was seeing, that everything was better when Moomin was there--

Moomin's cheeks burned even more.

Snufkin’s harmonica sat on the nightstand next to Moomin’s bed, somehow incomplete without Snufkin there to play it. Moomin rolled over to gaze at it.

Or maybe Snufkin hadn’t yet gotten very far at all.

Moomin bolted upright, struck by an idea. He grabbed the harmonica and untangled himself from the covers. Maybe…

Quickly he stole over to his armoire, scanning through. He pulled out the biggest knapsack and swiftly tiptoed down the stairs into the kitchen. He could think of nothing else while he set to work packing but _wait for me, wait for me _. He didn’t spare a glance backward as he cracked the door open.__

____

__

_I’m coming too. _  
And he ventured into the snow.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:)
> 
> the story's gonna shift over to snufkin's pov just so you know, lol I didn't make it very clear before


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HSDXGHDKL SORRY I forgot I was writing this I'll still update every week I hope

Snufkin sat beneath the empty branches of the trees with the contents of his pack splayed around him, surrounded most of all by the silence of the woods. A peaceful silence. He closed his eyes, letting himself think about whatever floated into his head, about everything and nothing at the same time. There in those woods, his thoughts were the only sound.

After taking another deep breath of sharp winter air Snufkin stood. He'd spent long enough idling, especially with the state of the weather. The snow was just beginning to come down, in solitary flakes carried by the faintest wind, and it almost certainly wouldn't stay this mild. If it were even really mild at all: practically before Snufkin’s eyes the layer of powder-white fell and gathered up to his ankles. He made quick work of gathering his belongings and, hoisting his bag on his back, began treading through the snow. 

His mind continued to wander as he laid his tracks in the new snow. Ordinarily, Snufkin would be well on his way by now, past the woods and onward south, where the flowers would still grow and the crickets still hum. It occurred to him that maybe it would be so cold this winter that he wouldn't be able to tell the difference between one and the other, for all the cold. Maybe there wouldn’t be any difference. His mind trailed back to Moominhouse, warm and cozy despite the elements. Moomin must be long asleep by now, deep in the throes of his hibernation. Probably for the best, especially this year. Snufkin hummed a few low notes, taking a few seconds to realize that they made up Moomin’s favourite of the songs Snufkin played on his harmonica. He shook his head as if to dislodge the thought. The silence resumed as he trudged along tunelessly. 

It was dark. There was only moonlight, painting the snow mottled with the shadows of the bony trees. Snufkin stopped in his tracks. The snow here wasn’t so pristine. It was already broken in by wide footprints. Snufkin followed them with his eyes--they traced an aimless path through the wood floor. Perhaps whoever had tread here before got lost. It would be easy to do so amidst all the snow, even if one did know this forest well. It occurred to him to follow them to wherever they led. And so he did, trodding along and planting his feet inside the tracks. They meandered, one way and then the next, as if their maker could make neither head nor tail of the deep wood. Around and about they went, until alongside the trail they led to something small tossed askew from the path, half-buried in the snow. Snufkin knelt to uncover it, picking it up in his hands before being able to make it out.

All of the blood drained from Snufkin’s face, the life seeping out of his boots and into the packed-down footprints where he stood.

His harmonica.

He lost his balance, and one boot found the ground outside of the footprints--Moomin’s footprints. He started running. His pack jostled on his back as he picked up his pace, feet pounding the ground as he flew along the footprints.. Cold air stung his face and pierced his lungs, but he ran without a single errant thought down the winding path until the tracks led him back to where he’d started. Where he'd started.... Snufkin slowed to a stop, just standing there in the snow. His shoulders shook with ragged breath and heavy heart. He let out a strangled cry.

“Moomin!”

The crackle of broken branches rang out behind him. Snufkin whirled around, but his fear returned upon seeing the face of the culprit.

“It's about time I saw you about,” the deep, slow voice of the stranger rasped. “You're later than usual.”

Snufkin didn’t respond. He stood, with his shoulders up and his head down.

“The infamous wanderer, renowned up and down the countryside. Don't you usually travel alone, Snufkin?”

Snufkin tensed at the jab. “What do you want from me?”

The old stranger gave a harsh chuckle. “Oh, I don't need anything. But if I'm not mistaken, whoever you're looking for might.”

“Where is he?” Snufkin spat, pleasantry long since abandoned.

“Now, easy does it. Don't you ruffle your fur with me. You're looking for a fluffy white sort, I presume?”

Snufkin didn't say anything.

“I thought so. Poor boy. Wasn't built for anything like this weather. His eyes were half-lidded even when he asked me the way up the mountain. Whatever could've driven him out here, come hibernation time?”

Snufkin didn’t lash out this time. His voice went quiet, laced with a mournful vibrato. “Where did he go?”

“I already told you that. He asked me how to get up the mountain. So I told him.” The old man paused, as if to make sure Snufkin heard every word. “Told him it's a long way for someone who doesn’t know these woods. What with the river rushing, and the Tonkhobber lurking about.” He stopped again, but seeing no reaction from Snufkin, continued. “Ah, yes. That great beast, with eyes like deep pits of black, and great white jaws. Certainly not the type that a little white fluffy tail would care to get caught between.”

The old man opened his dark eyes, carried away by his tale, only to find that Snufkin no longer stood before him. He was long gone.


End file.
